


Lesson 2: Getting Off Your High Horse

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Therapy, mentions of past lisa and dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: i know I usually post notes at the bottom, but I just wanted to say this chapter is a little bit shorter than what you've been used to. I have an upper respiratory infection, and I can't really concentration. Instead of blabbering on the chapter, I wrapped it up nicely, and promise (cross my heart) that chapter 2 will be a little longer to make up for it.Thanks!!!!





	1. Bon Voyage Castiel

**Author's Note:**

> i know I usually post notes at the bottom, but I just wanted to say this chapter is a little bit shorter than what you've been used to. I have an upper respiratory infection, and I can't really concentration. Instead of blabbering on the chapter, I wrapped it up nicely, and promise (cross my heart) that chapter 2 will be a little longer to make up for it.
> 
> Thanks!!!!

Dean had really done it. After he went off on Castiel, he’d been sleeping on the couch almost every night. Sometimes, he just fell asleep, and other times? He knew better than to ask Castiel for forgiveness just yet. It was obvious that Castiel was avoiding him. On days Dean didn’t have to work, Castiel would leave early in the morning, and not be back until late. Dean was clearly some kind of whole moron for talking to Castiel that way.

He tried a few times to talk to Castiel, but he just wasn’t having it. The closer it was getting to Castiel’s business trip, the more sick Dean felt. He didn’t want Castiel to leave him angry… or in general actually. And while he felt like a huge heel, he didn’t know what to do.

“I’d like to see you to the airport in the morning.” 

Castiel looked up from the book he was reading. They were sharing the couch, Dean on end, Castiel on the other… this was the closest they’d been to each other since Dean went up and lost his damn mind. 

“I suppose that’s alright.”

Wow. Four whole words, and honestly, Dean could’ve clicked his heels together and jumped for jump. Figuratively, not literally. Though literally probably would’ve been a sight to see. While Dean still slept on the couch that night, he was significantly happier than he was prior.

* * *

Having switched the foot controls for the impala from the right side to the left side of the driver’s seat meant that Dean could now drive just as often as Castiel did (he couldn’t take credit, it was all Bobby’s idea). Dean hadn’t been too crazy about the idea at first, making such a significant change to such a beautiful piece of car history, but now that he was able to see Castiel off at the airport, he was thanking every God he could think of.

They were quiet, the radio playing softly between them. But it was slowly killing Dean that Castiel was still so mad at him. Not that he didn’t every single right to be, but Dean was trying to make it up. Castiel was just being difficult…. right?

Dean hadn’t gotten an escort ticket, so he couldn’t go all the way through security with him, but he’d take whatever he could get. He even helped carry his luggage. When it was time to say good-bye, Dean just couldn’t let go, holding onto the sleeve of his coat.

“Just a week right…?” he said softly, looking into Castiel’s perfect blue eyes.

Castiel nodded, “Yes. Just a week. And then I’ll be home. I really have to go Dean, I don’t want to miss my flight.”

Dean sighed and let his hand fall to his side. But as Castiel went to turn away, Dean quickly changed his mind, grabbing him once more, pulling him into a close embrace.

“Cas. I love you…” The words came out before he could even give a thought to it.

“Good bye Dean…” He replied, giving him a small kiss on his cheek, and gathered his composure. “I’ll see you in a week.”

Dean stood in the crowd watching Castiel walk away until he could no longer see that messy black hair, or Castiel’s stupid trench coat.

* * *

The car ride home was so frustrating. Why had he told Castiel he loved him? For what it was worth, he really did love him. But why had he chosen right then and there to just blurt it out. And Castiel hadn’t said it back. Was it because he was still mad? Or that he was leaving for a while? Or…. Maybe he didn’t love him back.

No.

That was impossible. Dean was just being the biggest asshole in the world, and nothing was making sense anymore anyway. All he had to do was not go crazy for the next week, and then Castiel would be back and they could talk. 

The drive home took forever, and he sat in the car for a long time before he finally went back in the house. It was quiet. Not that it wasn’t when Castiel was home, but this was a different kind of stillness. The kind of stillness Dean could feel through his whole body, straight through to his soul. 

It did not take long for Dean to settle in their bed, taking in all the warm he’d missed, the stale smell of Castiel’s cologne. He curled up in the blanket, hugging Castiel’s pillow close. Who would’ve thought that Dean would catch feelings so hard for this man… or anyone for that matter, especially after all that happened with Lisa.  
Dean awoke several hours later in the dark. How long had he been asleep? What time was it now? He sighed, rolling onto his back. The blanket had a death grip on him, and he just wasn’t ready to move yet. He wiggled a little to get his hand down deep in his pocket, searching for his phone. When he struck gold, he wiggled it back out.

**Castiel:** I’ve landed safely.

Dean blinked a couple times, the bright light of the screen making it difficult to focus for a moment. Was it a good sign Castiel texted him? ( _yeah, like an hour ago_ ). Or was he just being polite? ( _probably_ ) And why was Dean trying to psychoanalyze everything? ( _like seriously, get s grip on yourself_ ). He shook his head and texted back.

**Dean:** Good stuff. Don’t have too much fun.

Another 20 minutes went by before Dean finally wriggled free of the blanket, and stood up in the distant. He was kind of stiff, and gave a soft stretch, squeaking in the darkness. Dean was only 26, but he had bones of an old man now; the aftermath of the accident had left him stiff and achy if he stayed in the same position for too long.

He took a shower, letting warm water soothe his muscles, and his soul. He needed to get his shit together, but he didn’t really feel like he knew how. It was painfully obvious that the accident had changed him more than just physically, but as Dean so often mentioned, he didn’t need help, and what would a therapist even do for him? Dean didn’t even like to talk about a paper cut, let alone his whole life, and with a stranger? No thank you sir.


	2. Alcohol Dreams and Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:
> 
> Talk of alcohol abuse and self harm. There will be a "too long didn't read" in the end note for those who might be triggered by reading something so descriptive.
> 
> much love <3

“I think therapy is a great idea.” Ellen looked over her shoulder to him. She was busy cleaning the bar top. The roadhouse wasn’t quite open yet, and Dean was sitting on a bar stool, drinking a coke, his head in his hand. 

“I dunno Ellen… It was just a thought, not even a good one…” He sighed, “Ya know.. I mean.. Why would I want to talk to a complete stranger and be judged, when I can be judged by my own family for free?”

Ellen set down the bottle of cleaner she was holding a little harder than she intended, “You know what I think Dean? I think you like being miserable…” She turned to face him, all serious, eyes dark, “I think you like complaining, and having people mad at you, because it’s the one thing in your life that is constant.”

Woah. Those words words stung. Hot damn she was serious. All he could do was stare at her. “Actually… Forget I said anything at all..” He stood from the bar, and looked back at her one last time before leaving. 

Where did she get off telling him exactly what he already knew to be true? But it was so totally easier said than done. He sat in the impala for a long time before he pulled out of the parking lot. It just seemed like everyone knew what was best for him, regardless of what he wanted. And it was so frustrating, because how could they? He didn’t even know what was best for him half the time. 

He passed a liquor store on his way home, stopped, and turned around. This was not the way to fix things, obviously. Dean was a smart guy, but it was easier than just facing the shit he needed to deal with. He didn’t want to do it alone, and yet here he was, literally pushing away the people who were trying to help him. It almost wasn’t fair, to him or anyone else. But true to Winchester fashion, it was easier to drink than it was to talk.

* * *

He was half way through the bottle of whatever cheap whiskey he’d bought, sitting on the couch in the dark. He was looking like an ad for alcoholism, or at best, an ASPCA commercial (complete with ‘arms of an angel’ playing in the distance). He would periodically nod off, only to jerk away at the last minute, avoiding spilling the glass in his hand. 

It was only when his phone rang, the screen light and noise filling the void of the living room. It was Castiel, and he’d know for sure that Dean had been drinking, but he cleared his throat and put on his game face. 

“hello?”

“Dean? Hello, how are you?”

Awful. Devoid of all emotion. One drink away from taking a long walk off a short pier. Sitting here in the dark realizing how pathetic I am.

“Im great.. I miss you…”

There was silence and then Castiel returned the sentiment,

“I miss you too.. all this nonsense is terribly boring…”

“Yeah, what was it that Jack Nicholson said… all work and no play, right??”

Castiel chuckled a little, “Yes… something like that…”

“Castiel, Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

That was a man’s voice. A voice was not Castiel’s, and before Dean could inquire, Castiel was hurrying off the phone, “Right.. well, I’m glad I got to talk to you.. I’ll see you on Friday…”

“Yeah alright.. bye Cas…”

Who was that…? If Castiel said he was bored….. you know what… none of his business.

* * *

Monday.

Tuzzday.

Wesssday.

phersday….

He drank the whole week. It was easier to be drunk and placid than it was to feel anything at all. Screw therapy, this was working out so much better. By Thursday night, his thoughts were beginning to take a landslide.

He knew that Castiel’s presence in the house would change things. (Would they…? Or was he just really drunk?) Drunk him was making complete sense though. He didn’t want to be a burden anymore. And Sam.. And Castiel… And everyone was making him feel like a little kid… And his bones ached with a feeling of restlessness and defeat. 

Dean moved slowly through the house, bottle in hand, looking at the various pictures that Castiel had hanging in the hallway. They were pictures of him, on various adventures, smiling, happy. And the alcohol in Dean’s system had made it so that he couldn’t remember a single time Castiel had smiled since he moved in. He knew it wasn’t true, but right now, all he could remember were the disagreements, the fighting.

He took a picture off the wall, carrying it in one hand, bottle in the other. The more he stared at that picture, the more he felt he was standing in the way of that happiness. He should’ve known better than to allow someone to ruin their own happiness by taking on his emotional baggage that was now amplified by the trauma of his accident.

He ended up sitting on the bathroom floor, standing the picture up on the lid of the toilet. It was almost like Castiel was staring at him. “I did m’ best ya know….” he said to the photograph, “I really.. tried. s’ hard…’ He rummaged around in the drawers until he found a small thin razor.

Dean pulled out his phone, hands shaking. What this what he wanted? Or what this the alcohol? Don’t drunk mouths speak sober thoughts?

**Dean:** I really am sorry for everything

His breathing was jagged, and the first cut took his breath away. Watching his blood bubble to the surface of his skin was terrifying and somewhat satisfying. When his phone started ringing, he ignored it in favor of his current activity. As the solid shapes of the room gave way to smears of color, he reached out and grabbed the picture of Castiel that both comforted him and mocked him, and he curled around it on the floor.

* * *

There was something so random, and so sudden about that text that it gave Castiel the chills. He tried calling, but it went to voicemail. The more he tried to call, and the more he heard Dean’s voicemail, the more urgent he felt in getting ahold of him. He was quite frantic, when he finally decided to try something else.

“Roadhouse, this is Ellen….”

“Oh thank god….” Castiel sighed relief, “Ellen, it’s Castiel. Dean sent me a very concerning text message. and now I can’t get a hold of him. Have you seen him?”

“I’m sorry I haven’t.. He’s seemed really out of it though, I’ll have Jo go check on him, and I’ll have her give you a call later.. okay?”

“Thank you Ellen.. It’s much appreciated.”

“Anytime sweetheart.”  
After that brief conversation with Ellen, Castiel did feel better, but there was something aching in his heart that he couldn’t quite place. He was pacing a path into the floor waiting to hear back from Ellen.

* * *

After a quick chat, Jo had agreed to go talk to Dean. When she got there, she knocked a couple times, but there was no answer. She gave it a couple more seconds before trying the knob, which was unlocked, which, knowing Dean, was super weird.

“Dean??” 

It was very dark in the house, curtains drawn, no lights, not even the TV.

“Dean… Are you here?”

All of a sudden it dawned on her that the house might’ve been broken into, and she suddenly wished she’d brought her gun.

There a small noise and she stopped. 

“Dean…?”

The noise sounded like a wounded animal, and the closer she got to it, the most pathetic it sounded. She ended up outside the bathroom, a hand on the knob. “Dean. are you in there?” When there was no answer, she opened the door. 

Jo screamed, the kind of scream that came out as a weep. 

It was Dean, alright, huddled up against that framed picture of Castiel, old blood and new smeared on the tile beneath him, the bottle knocked over, spilling just enough for the smell of alcohol to mix with the smell of iron in the air.

The next few minutes were a blur, calling 911, calling Ellen, calling Sam. It was merely a small blessing that Ellen said she’d call Castiel. She didn’t think she’d be able to stomach that conversation. After the paramedics came for him, she sat in the bathroom for a moment, staring at the carnage that was left. 

She took it upon herself to slowly start cleaning up the mess in the bathroom. She occasionally needs to stop, wipe a tear from her eye, control her breathing, remind herself this was just a small thing she could do for Castiel, who as kind a soul and who cared for Dean too deeply to be have any visual reminder of the horror that had happened.

* * *

“Ellen?? Any news?”

Ellen took a deep breath and tried to compose herself before relying the news to Castiel. 

“Yeah, honey, you might want to sit down…”

“Oh my god… whats wrong?”

“Castiel, Dean tried to take his own life….”  
“Oh..”

“Jo found him, though honey, and the paramedics think he’s gonna recover just fine.”

“I’ll be home as soon as possible…”

After he hung with Ellen, he began to move with ease around his hotel, gathering his things up, trying to keep himself together. Every once in a while, he needed to stop, and wipe his eyes. When there was a knock on the door, he only paused briefly to open it. 

“Castiel, whats going on? You know we still got another day.” 

It was Ishim, his sometimes co-editor, standing in the doorway, watching Castiel scurry around like a mouse in a maze.

“I have a family emergency at home, and I need to leave…”

“I don’t think Zachariah is going to like that…”

Castiel stopped and turned to look at him, “Honestly, Ishim, I’ve given up a lot of things for Zachariah in the many years I’ve been editing for him, but I refuse to let him have this too. I have a family emergency, and I have to leave…”

Ishim shrugged, “Suit yourself I guess…”

When Castiel was finally alone, he sat on the hotel bed, and cried. It was so painful, and it was too much to take on alone. Here he was, so far from someone he… loved? Loved. He should’ve known that Dean needed him when he left, and stayed. He should’ve seen the hurt in eyes, in his voice. Who knows how long Dean had been feeling way and Castiel had been oblivious to all this….. All he could do now was hurry home.

_Do you know the words that make the hidden door open?_  
_Can you speak my secret name and fix me?_  
_I have no heart, I have no brain_  
_Lord I have no courage_  
_Can you get me home again?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR
> 
> After castiel is gone, dean begins to drink heavily. The day before Castiel is to return, Dean tries to take his life, but is found by Jo.
> 
> Edit: the song lyrics at the end are: could never be heaven - Brand New


	3. An Anchor In A Storm

The hospital decided it was going to be in everyone’s best interest to leave Dean sedated for a few days. He would wake up extremely agitated, becoming extremely combative. He was angry at himself for surviving, though truly he was relieved, and he was also angry that Castiel and Sam had to see him this way. So he fought, he let everyone know he was angry. It was easier to be angry, than it was to feel disappointed knowing he let people down.

It was several more days before the doctors let the sedative wear off. Someone was stroking his head, humming softly. He nuzzled into the touch and sighed. It felt like a dream, the sedative still in his system, making everything seem frosted on the edges. When he finally opened his eyes enough, he realized it was Castiel. It was terrifying and soothing to know that Castiel was still there, even though Dean had been a horse’s ass, and now all this.

“Cas…?”   
Castiel was laying in the hospital bed with him, Dean’s head laying in the crook of his shoulder. He tilted his head up to look at him. But Castiel shushed him, continuing to smooth over his head. It was what seemed like several minutes before Castiel spoke, his voice hoarse from crying.

“I’m so sorry… I had no idea you felt so poorly…” 

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes, “It wasn’t important at the time..”

Castiel looked down at him, surprised that he would even make such a statement, “It was absolutely important… YOU are important.. and i’m sorry you felt you couldn’t talk to me about it… I never intended on alienating you, and I promise I’ll do better, because you deserve better….”

Dean looked up at him, feeling appreciative, and a little guilty… but mostly appreciative. His eyes fluttered closed, the sedative still slowly swirling around in his blood. “I’m sorry too….” Castiel went to shush him again, but Dean had already drifted off. Taking the opportunity, and knowing that Dean was safe now, he went out in search of Sam, who went to get coffee, and found Jo instead.

“Jo..” 

She jumped, a little on edge still. The bags under her eyes were dark. It’d only been a day since she’d found Dean, and it looked like she hadn’t slept in years. He moved slow, so she could see him coming, and pulled her into an embrace. 

Jo immediately buried her face in his shoulder, and he just held her like that. “I’m sorry Castiel… I’m so sorry….” Why was everyone sorry? For christ’s sake, Castiel lived with the guy, and he didn’t even notice things were bad. Then again, he spent much of his time recently being petty, so if anyone needed to be sorry it was him.

“Jo, he’s awake… He just woke up…” He said softly into her hair, “He might’ve gone back to sleep, but I’m sure he’d love to see you..”

“Does he know I’m….?”

“I don’t think so.. The doctor said… Well. The doctor said he wasn’t exactly coherent when he came in, so he probably doesn’t remember, so you don’t have to tell him if you don’t want to…”

She nodded, “I’m gonna go see him.”

“And I’m gonna find Sam..”

* * *

Jo entered the room really slowly, taking in the huddled lump of a man before her. “Dean….?” She moved close to the bed, sitting on the edge next to him. “Im glad you’re gonna be okay.” She took his hand in hers. They were rougher than they looked, years of doing God knows what had left them dry and calloused. He had bracelets of gauze on both arms, from wrist to elbow. They were flecked with blood, where scabs had given up, but over all, they weren’t bleeding barely at all anymore.

He stirred a little under her touch, slowly opening one eye, and then the other. “Jo, its nice to see you…” He shuffled to sit up, using the hand she was holding and pulling her into a hug. She bristled under the weight of his hug, but returned it with the same enthusiasm. “Im really glad to see you actually….”

“I’m really glad to see you too..” She gave a gentle sob, and hugged harder. He wasn’t ready, but didn’t let go.

“Please don’t cry.. everyone’s crying..” 

“Dean.. This isn’t a joke man…” She stood up from the bed, looking down at the actual mess that everyone could see on his face, even though Dean thought he was hiding it fairly well. “You could’ve died you asshole.. If I hadn’t found you….” She took a step back as she watched the gravity of her words wash over his face, “Just promise me, you’ll get help.”

“It wasn’t meant to happen like that….” He said softly, suddenly unable to make eye contact with her. “No one was supposed to find me…”

“Spare me okay?” she said, holding her hand to get him to stop talking, “What? No one was supposed to find you? Like.. was Castiel supposed to come home and just ignore the fact that you were dead on the floor in the bathroom holding onto a picture of him for dear life? Because I can’t.. I won’t ever be able to forget that..” She shook her head and pushed back Castiel and Sam as they were coming in.

Dean went to follow her, try to stop her.. something. But his IV was tethering him to the bed, so he sat where he was stunned, looking to Castiel and Sam for answers. What could you honestly say to that? Especially since that was information that they hadn’t known previously. Dean leaned back into the bed, and just let it all sink in. He was pretty drunk when he decided to… do the deed. But he vividly remembered pouring his heart out to the picture of Castiel he plucked from the hallway.

“Dean dont….”

“Don’t what? Listen to her? She’s right…”

* * *

Legally, they could only hold him for 72 hours (citing 51/50 and all that, as it seemed he was no longer a danger to himself), but they were adamant about releasing him into the custody of either Sam or Castiel. The more obvious choice was Castiel, because Dean lived with him already. However, Sam was apprehensive about Dean going back to the house. 

“What if he tries to do it again?”

Castiel shook his head, “He wont get the chance. I wont be leaving him home alone until we get this all sorted out.”

“I still don’t think this is a good idea..”

They stood in the hall, staring at each other vehemently, until Castiel sighed, “Why… don’t we ask Dean what he wants?”

“Do you really think he’s in a position to decide what he wants?”

Castiel flinched, “That’s a little harsh, I think….”

“Fine.. WHATEVER.” He conceded, throwing his hands up in angst. 

They went back in the room, Dean sitting there crosslegged. He looked like an eager school student, waiting to hear his grades, but honestly, he was sick of hospitals all together.

“Whats the game plan??” He asked, looking between Sam and Castiel.

“Well…” Sam started, “They’re letting you leave, however, you have to signed into the care of someone who can be responsible for you, at least for a little while.” 

He chewed on his bottom lip, deep in thought. “Okay… so who wants to adopt me?” He chuckled, but the sound faded when he realized neither one of them were laughing. “What…? You’re not gonna put me in a shelter are you…?”

Castiel went to speak, but Sam cut him off, “We thought it would be best if you decided who you stayed with.”

Dean sighed and nodded, “Id rather just go home.. if you’ll have me home…” He said, looking to Castiel, who nodded, not too eagerly, and smiled. 

“I would love to have you home….” 

Sam bit his tongue, and left the room, trying to keep his calm. Castiel just moved over to Dean and sat next to him on the bed, taking Dean’s hand in his own. 

“We’re going to make this work.” He said softly, “Whatever you need…”

* * *

Sam wasn’t entirely thrilled about Dean going back home with Castiel, but he did not voice his opinion once. They moved into the house, and Dean took a breath of relief, he hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath beforehand. The smell of the place was sterile, clean, like bleach. It was pretty obvious way, but it remained unspoken. 

Dean went into the kitchen, and slowly unwrapped the gauze from around his wrists. He was adamant that he kept them on until they were home. Castiel joined him, and hung the list of therapists that the doctor gave them on the fridge. Seeing the scabs, and irritated skin, Castiel stiffened. He made it a point to never look directly, it made his stomach turn. But he needed to be strong for Dean, and strong he would be.

“We should open a window or two.. let some fresh air in…” 

When Castiel didn’t answer, Dean waved his hand in his face a little, “Hello, McFly….” Castiel blinked, giving him a look, “I don’t… who’s McFly?” Dean chuckled, “Never mind… let’s open some windows yeah?”

Once fresh air started to trickle in, it began to feel more like home again. They were sitting in awkward silence in the living room, Dean trying to not stare off into space, but the silence was like a vacuum. Finally, Castiel broke the silence, asking the question Dean never wanted to hear, or address.

“I think we should discuss picking a therapist…”  
Dean tried to stifle a groan, but it didn’t work so well. If looks could kill Sam and Castiel would’ve both blown him off the face of the earth. He shrunk away from such aggressive attention, “I just… I dunno…. Fine…”

Castiel stood, going to retrieve the list from the fridge. “It looks like there are plenty of interesting people are this list..” He said handing it over to Dean. 

He looked down the list: girl. girl. girl. girl. girl… Benny Lafitte. He sighed, “The frenchman….” He said, handing the list back to him. If he was gonna pour out whatever his body constructed into feelings, then it wasn’t be a chick-flick feelings hour.

Once Sam left, deciding that Dean _wasn’t_ going to spontaneously combust after all, Dean took a moment of silence and closed his eyes. When he opened them back up, Castiel was standing before him, just looking, eyes searching. “What… do I have something on me?” Castiel sat down next to him, and pulled him down so Dean’s head was on his shoulder. 

They stayed like that for a very long time, enjoying the calm silence. Every so often, Castiel would place a tender kiss on Dean’s forehead. “Things are going to be different…” he said softly, “But you need to trust me…” Dean looked up, feeling Castiel’s fingers in his hair, “I do trust you.”

Castiel did not let go, and Dean felt too protected to move away from him. So even as the living room got dark, they stayed embraced, side by side on the couch. “Dean….” Castiel tipped his head up, placing his lips to the others forehead, leaving his unfinished thought hanging in the air. He wanted to spill his heart. Let Dean know that he loved him too, that he’d never feel alone again, the Castiel would spend the rest of his life protecting Dean from whatever it was that scared him… but everything felt like too much or not enough for the situation, so he let the gentle kiss do all the talking instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking by me through this.


	4. French Fried Feelings

Benny Lafitte.

He was a mountain of a man, physically… stature wise, he was on an even playing field with Dean. His face was kind of scruff, and he had a southern drawl that could probably talk Dean into doing just about anything….

_Just_ about being the operative word.

This was Dean’s first session, and the first 20 minutes were sat in silence. Dean refused to talk, and Benny wasn’t going to talk to himself. Another 5 minutes, and a check of the watch, and Benny leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees.

“Im gonna reason with ya brother, because you seem like a smart guy. I get paid by you.. whether you talk or not…” 

All Dean could do was scowl, but it seemed to do the trick, “Well where would you like me to start? The part where my mom died, and my dad became an alcoholic and I raised my brother myself, OR I could skip to the good stuff, right? The one where I lost my leg and pushed away the only guy who has EVER taken in an interest in more than just my dick, who I’m pretty sure, by the way, feels partly, if not completely responsible for me trying to kill myself.”

“Let’s start at the first part…”

And start Dean did.

“My mom died when I was 4.. The house burned down.. I remember my dad handing me Sammy, and lots of screaming… By the time the fire department got there, it was just the three of us. We got in the car and never looked back…” 

It was strange, talking about these memories didn’t really invoke any kind of feelings in him. Yeah of course it was devastating when mom died, and the years that followed weren’t much better, but he liked to think they shaped who he was as a person today. 

“My dad bounced us around from town to town, staying just long enough to work an odd job here and there, make some money, but never anything permanent. I mean.. I practically raised Sammy myself.. Dad was too busy working and being drunk. I’m 4 years older than him, but we did everything together man….” He smiled, practically glowing. He loved his brother, Sam was the strong person he was today because Dean pushed him to be. 

“Eventually, dad got on the wrong side of some… interesting people, and that took care of him.. I’d imagine he’s dead somewhere.. Haven’t heard from him in… wow… I can’t even remember…”

Benny raised an eyebrow, “Must’ve been tough, right? What’d you do with Sam?”

“Nah, it was bound to happen. When he drank, he had loose lips, and you can’t just run your mouth to people.. that ain’t how life works. And I got me and Sam settled somewhere, somewhere stable.. he went to actual school and learned actual things. I got my GED and a J-O-B, and I parented the hell outta that kid.”

“and he turn out okay?”

“I guess.. it’s not like I raised another kid to compare him to, ya know? I mean… He’s wicked smart.. some big shot lawyer in California, got himself a sweet girl, and I guess the picket fence life he never had growing up.”

“Does that bother you?”

Dean tensed, and then relaxed, “It used to.. like it I felt like it wasn’t fair that I got stuck the GED and he went to Stanford. That he was some hot thing, living the dream, and I was busting my ass to pay rent… But I guess we ended up how we were supposed..”

Benny eyed him, taking in everything he was saying, looking for any inconsistency, or hint of dishonesty. “You’re awfully level headed about all that you’ve gone through as a kid.”

Dean shrugged, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. 

“Then it’s obvious we haven’t reached the root of the problem yet.”

“I’d say not.” 

“It looks like same time next week then.”

Dean nodded and sighed, standing to shake Benny’s hand. It was weird. They hadn’t talked about anything that Dean was particularly traumatized by. Was it completely fair that Sam ended up with a sweet life and Dean ended up scrapping to get by for the majority of his life? No. But thats what parents did. And while Sam was by no means the fruit of Dean’s loins, he loved the crap outta that kid.

* * *

Castiel heard the door open before he heard Dean fussing with his keys on the hook. 

“How was therapy?” He peeked out of the doorway from the kitchen, trying to gauge a reaction before Dean had a chance to compose him.

“It was okay.. you know.. okay as feelings get….” He shrugged, hanging his jacket on the hook. He hated the period of weather between he start of summer and the end of summer, and winter was no exception. “I have an appointment to go back next week.”

“Well thats good.” Castiel went back to finishing up dinner. He didn’t want to pry for information, even though he was practically dying to know all the details. “Sam called while you were out, he didn’t sound very happy, I told him you’d call him back.”

Dean groaned, probably a little more dramatic than was necessary. “Alright… I’ll give him a call real quick..”

He fished for his cell phone, and scrolled through all six contacts he had his phone and pressed enter. It rang twice before Sam answered.

“Hey Sammy…”

“Dean, hey man.. I just wanted to call and see how things were?”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Things are.. normal.”

Normal? That’s like.. a) not a very good adjective, and b) not entirely true. He felt like he could’ve picked a better word to use other than normal. Better than they were the last time we talked? 

“So therapy?” 

“Yeah Sammy.. We talked about it when you were here last week.. Today was the first day. I’m kind of glad I’m going.. I dunno. I think maybe if I wouldn’t have gotten drunk that night.. therapy probably would’ve been my first choice and not… well.. yeah.”

“I hear you.. and I’m glad your doing it..”

“Anyway, enough about my glamorous life. Cas said you sounded less than pleased when you called earlier? Something on your mind?”

Sam didn’t respond right away, and then he sighed. “I dunno Dean. I’ve been thinking a lot.. and I don’t want to dump this on you, with all you’ve got going on and….” Dean sat down, he could tell this was either going to be long winded, or some straight up Winchester feelings. “And.. I guess in a way.. I feel like I should be the one taking care of you? After all you did for me growing up.. and I’m just a little jealous I guess that Castiel gets to do that… When I owe you..”

Dean just started laughing. It was probably NOT the appropriate response to the situation, and he could just visualize the mortified look on Sam’s face. “listen you idiot. I don’t NEED taken care of. News flash Sasquatch, you don’t owe me shit. You living your life is payment enough.. I did the only thing I could, which was raising you from the egg you hatched out of. I just support, and thats gotta come from both you together…” God.. one therapy session and now all of a sudden HE was Dr. Phil. “I love this guy Sam. It is what is. But you gotta cut the attitude crap…”

The line was so quiet, Dean thought he hung up. “You love him?”

“Is that the only part you heard?”

“No.. I just want to hear you get all sappy again…”

Dean smiled, “You’re a bitch….”

“Jerk.”

“Ill talk to you later Sammy…”

After they hung up, Dean leaned back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Holy shit, he keeps going to see Benny, and he’s gonna be skywriting his feelings. But it was nice to kind of even the playing field a little. He knew Sam had a gigantic fucking stick up his ass about something and it was nice that they were able to wiggle it free just a little bit. Then again, maybe that stick was the only thing keeping his giant self standing.

He must’ve been staring into oblivion longer than he thought, because Castiel came looking for him. There was a light knock on the door, and Dean sat up a little. “Sorry, I had the strangest phone call with Sam, and I guess I lost in thought…”

Castiel went to sit by him, “was it a good phone call or a bad phone call?”

“I dunno.. it was weird.. good I guess. We talked about a lot of things.” 

Castiel laid back against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling, “Thats good. It’s important for you to be heard.”

Dean laid back down too, moving to lay his head against Castiel’s chest. “I know…”

By the time the pair of them went back out to eat dinner, the taco meat Castiel had made was cold. But Dean shrugged and dug in anyway. He got a weird look for it, but Castiel quietly followed suit, eating a cold taco too.

“How about tomorrow night… We go on.. like a date?”

Dean felt like a teenager again. A date? What was he 16? Then again, Castiel and Dean never really dated. They met under the most bizarre circumstances, and in an effort for Dean to stay in Kansas near his already established life, they moved in together. 

He was almost on edge, bated breath, the seconds that passed seemed like an eternity before Castiel smiled, “I would actually like that very much.

* * *

A date.

A whole date.

It was weird, because they were already very close, domestic. They slept in the same bed, they _cuddled_. Their relationship with each other was the ultimate form of putting the cart before the horse. They needed a fresh start though, a point to move forward from together.

Castiel had some errands to run, so Dean volunteered to clean the house up a little. The plan was to be ready for dinner at 5. So Dean meandered around the house, doing the little stuff that the busyness of their schedules didn’t always allow for, like the ever growing stack of mail on the coffee table, or the fact that their bed was never made… like… ever.

By 3, he was dusty, and itchy, and starting to think he might be allergic to dust. This was the perfect opportunity to jump in the shower, clean himself up, and look like a presentable human being, instead of the spiraling mess of depression and anger he’s felt like recently. He was consciously aware of making sure his dirty clothes ended up in the hamper, cleaning all day did that to a person.

Dean took a moment to stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom, taking in his nudity with fresh eyes (why Castiel had a full length mirror, he didn’t ask.. to him, it was a chick thing. But he was secretly glad to have it right now). This was no longer the body of a suave 20-something, smooth-talking ladies and gents out of their pants, and then out of his bed the next morning. But it was still his. All the scars left from the accident, all the road rash that gave way to dark patches of skin that will probably never fade. All the fresh scars on his arms, the skin there still pink, a bright reminder of where he’s come from, and where he wants to go. 

He let the warm water steam up the bathroom until it was felt a gentle hug around his skin, and then he got in, letting the water move over his shoulders and down his back. For the first time since the accident, Dean felt still, settled… at ease even. _Everything happens for a reason_ was his mantra. 

The shower had gone on long enough, the warm water becoming cold, and that was his cue to dry off. He half assed his hair, and wrapped the towel around his waist. It was only 4:00, and he still had time before Castiel came home. Time enough to procrastinate and then dash around trying to get ready to go out. 

It was true enough. At 4:45, he was still not dressed, save for boxers, and now he was trying to find something that made him look decent. Jeans were a given. It was too cold to wear anything else (not that he wore shorts outside the house. It was a preference). And he finally ended up in jeans, a black shirt, and a flannel.. WHICH WAS WHAT HE WORE EVERY DAY. It was too late to continue girling out about what he was wearing, because he could hear Castiel’s key in the door. 

“Dean? I’m home..” 

“I’m in the bedroom.” He called back, checking himself out one last time without being caught, turning to the door just in time to catch Castiel’s eyes with his own. 

There was no mistaking the blush on Castiel’s cheeks, and Dean’s face lit up, “Hey there handsome, come here often?” He extended a hand out to Castiel, who took it earnestly. Dean pulled him close and nuzzled his lips into the crook of Castiel’s neck. He placed his free hand on his hip. He took a deep breath and sighed against the skin of Castiel’s neck, warranting goosebumps, and he smiled. “I waited all day for this.”

“For what…” Castiel’s breath was airy, practically a whisper.  
“For you to come home.. to me.”

“I will always come home to you…” 

He pulled away, looking Castiel in his eyes, endless blue pools, and nothing but trust. He smiled, what could he possibly ever say to that? Thank you didn’t even begin to cover the gratitude and admiration he held for this man. 

“Come on..” Castiel said softly, “Ill change and then we can go..”

Dean sat on the bed, a silent observer, feeling more blessed than ever. Happier than he ever was. And it might’ve been the feeling that he was finally getting somewhere in his life, but he’d put good money to Castiel too.

* * *

They had both agreed not to do the whole fancy thing. After all, they were two grown men, they didn’t need to out of their way for all that stereotypical nonsense, all they wanted was some quality time together.. Really learn about each other. There was a diner just on the edge of being down town, a little back booth, and quiet.

“So, did you get all your errands done?” Dean asked, folding up the menu. He didn’t even need to read it. He was like a poorly written deja vu. 

“Yes.. Ishim sent me a fax of changes he’d made.. a detailed report.. a fax.” he hissed, “When an email…” he held his hands out to stop himself from overreacting, though it seemed as if he had every right.

“Ishim?” That wasn’t a name he’d heard before. It definitely wasn’t a brother, who Dean didn’t think Castiel had spoken to since Thanksgiving. 

“Oh yes… Ishim sometimes co-edits with me. We’re doing this current project together, which I believe we’re almost done with. But he’s terribly old fashioned, and decided that because he hand wrote changes, instead of editing the file I sent to him, that he’d fax me the changes… It was painful trying to find a fax machine..”

Dean nodded, “Some people are stuck in their ways.”

“What about you? The house looks fantastic.”

That made Dean flush, “Oh it was okay.. not as glamorous I’m sure, as running around all day..” He gave a small laugh, and their conversation was briefly interrupted by the waitress who came to take their order: a burger with fries, and two scrambled eggs with toast. 

“Have you talked to Sam?”

“Not since last night, I didn’t expect to. It wasn’t a bad conversation, like I said, I think it was just unexpected, for both of us… Have you talked to Gabriel or Michael?”

Castiel bristled, “No. I mean.. No and yes.. I called Gabriel while you were.. at the hospital. But I refuse to talk to Michael.. Gabriel actually texted me this morning, he wants to come for a visit. But I didn’t answer. I don’t think he’d try to bring Michael along, but as you probably figured out, people have a hard time telling him no.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of a scary guy.. and by scary, I mean possibly rabid.”

Castiel loosened up a little, stifling a little laugh, “Yes, rabid actually. I used to think he was adopted, and thats why he was so angry, but as I grew up, I realized that Michael and I look almost like twins.. and very much like our father.. Looking at the two of us, Gabriel is the one that looks out of place, but he’s the spitting image of our mother..”

Dean couldn’t ever remember Castiel mentioning his parents before, so he welcomed the new information he got. “I’m still not quite convinced Sammy isn’t adopted. No one in our family is as tall as he is.. not even close. If I didn’t remember him being a baby, I’d probably still think that.”

“He doesn’t look like your mom or dad?”

“Naw, not really.. I mean, I look exactly like my dad did at this age.. But Sam was different. He’d got mom’s personality, that’s for sure. But that’s about it.”

It was strange, the fact that they were talking about their parents, but neither one made a hint at whether they were alive or not, no one asked, and no one offered. Even as they ate the conversation didn’t really stop. It was easy to talk to Castiel, and Dean did his best follow everything Castiel was saying. 

On the way home, they sang along poorly to a strange blend of Dean and Castiel’s favorite music. Dean was a kindred soul for the old stuff, Zeppelin and Kansas, while Castiel tended to listen to the more pop-py songs. They used to go grab dinner all the time when Dean first moved in, but then something shifted in him, made him want to stay home more, and he tried to blame it on his slight limp, but now that he could recognize it for what it was, it was that much easier to be mad at himself for ever letting something comforting go.

They sat the car for a while when they finally got home, still chatting, laughing at each other, and together. Dean hadn’t realized how close Castiel had slid across the bench seat until they were lip to lip, Castiel’s long fingers wrapped in his hair. He eased into the feel of Castiel’s touch, the slight pressure of him leaning on his thigh, the warmth of their closeness.

It was an eternity before their lips parted, and Dean subconsciously leaned forward, following the lips he didn’t want to lose the feel of. 

“Mr. Winchester..” Castiel’s voice was deeper than Dean had ever heard it, reeling him in, hanging on to each syllable, “I very much like where this date is going… would you like to come inside…”

“I would very much like to come inside, Mr. Novak…”

Once they got through the threshold of the door, it was all hands and kisses, a Hansel and Gretel trail of clothes leading from the front door to the bedroom. Castiel pushed him back so that Dean was sitting on the bed, Castiel leaning down in front of him to put their lips together. Dean leaned all the way, bringing Castiel to him so they were chest to chest.

The only keeping them completely apart was the thin fabric of their boxers. But for now, they were too focused on searching the skin, stealing each others warmth. For months they lived together, sharing kisses, and gentle touches, but now, in the heat of this moment, everything was different. There was unspoken permission there now, a trust that wasn’t there before, a willingness to let the other in. 

Castiel made the first move toward the waist band of Dean’s boxers. When Dean’s breath hitched, Castiel looked him dead in eyes, making sure this was okay. Dean nodded, and watching closely as castiel pushed them down and away, revealing all of himself to Castiel. All the scars, that just earlier, it seemed to make peace with, somehow now made him feel vulnerable, but Castiel was looking at him in awe, and when Castiel ran his hands over Dean’s hips, Dean involuntarily raised them to his touch.

Dean watched Castiel with such intent, he was clearly a man on a mission. Castiel slipped from the last remaining threads of his clothing with such ease, Dean got the chills. Castiel was more of an athletic building than he would’ve guessed, everything about his pale skin angular but soft.

“Your beautiful..” He whispered, and then blushed. Dean had a knack recently for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, and he hoped that wasn’t just what happened. But it was in his favor, because Castiel merely blushed, and moved back to him, closing the distance once more. 

Their bodies were as close as they could physically get them. Dean had firmly but gently taken ahold of Castiel’s neck with one hand, the other slowly sneaking its way down to his hip. He dug his thumb in at his hip bone, and Castiel moaned into their kiss. The sound of it was so sweet, Dean was greedy enough to want to hear again. 

He dug his nails in a little into the soft skin of his hips, and the sounds, sweet and deep. They were too much, they made Dean shudder, the arousal in him, low and full. Castiel felt the same thing, and his kisses became more urgent. The fingers that just a moment ago been laced through Dean’s hair was now gently tugging his head back to expose his neck, the other taking himself and Dean in his hand, stroking them together. 

Dean’s eyes rolled so far back in his head, he was pretty sure they came back around. The feeling was so overwhelming, the friction between them, the feeling of Castiel’s skin puckered under his tight hold. He was sure they’d bruise, but Castiel didn’t seem to mind.

“oh my god….” Dean’s voice was a whisper, more focus on trying to breath than trying to speak. When he tipped his head back in a moan, Castiel immediately bit down on his neck. “Cas.. Im…” He couldn’t finish the thought completely before he came, Castiel’s own release following his. 

Castiel collapsed on top of him, both trying to steady their breathing. Once he was had regained some control of his body, Castiel slid up the bed a little, resting his head on his pillow. Dean followed, resting his head on Castiel’s chest. Castiel slid his arm around Dean, pulling him in. 

“Dean..”

“Yeah…?”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This long chapter was brought to you by Winter Storm Toby and the fact that I was snowed into my house today.
> 
> enjoy!


	5. Tell Me How You Really Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, I had writers block you can't even imagine. 
> 
> Like I had my sweet sweet fun writing the first part.  
> and I know where I WANT the story to go.
> 
> But its like drawing a line from A to C... I had to go through B.

“So tell me more about this most recent incident.”  
He’d gone to see Benny a few more times since the initial session, and he was beginning to really understand where a lot of his hostility was coming from. As much as he would never admit, the talking was helping. 

“well.. i don’t know..” Dean replied, feeling suddenly on edge. “I guess it had a lot to do with what I felt like was everyone meddling…”

“Meddling?”

“Yeah.. like all of a sudden, everyone felt like I needed help, needed to have things done for me, or decisions made for me. and it was so overwhelming. It made me feel.. like a burden.”

“And what was the tipping point.. for the incident?”

“I guess.. I was feeling really alone.. isolated. At the time, I’d royally screwed things up with Castiel, and then he left for a work thing, Sam was mad at me. So for the first time since my accident I was completely alone and I got drunk… I had pushed away the people I loved, and got inside my own head. Drunk me figured being gone was better than being a burden.”

Benny nodded, taking in everything Dean had said. “Do you think you’re looking at this the wrong way? Like… to me, it sounds like the people in your life are just trying to be caring and considerate. Ya know? I know its hard because you’re still figuring out your independence, and everyone is trying to help the best they can, and sometimes the things you can do overlap with the things your friends are trying to help with.”

Dean went to speak, but Benny kept right on talking. “It _is_ important for you to feel and have independence. But it’s also important that you accept help when you need it. Those are just boundaries you have to set, and make sure you let others know what they are.”

He nodded, “I just don’t want to be a burden.. Sam and Castiel have done enough for me already…”

“Are they doing it because they want to, or because they have to?”

Dean balled up his fists, remembering the conversation he had with Sam on the phone. Sam had said he felt like he owed him, which was completely ridiculous, and Castiel was the one who found him, wouldn’t Dean be the one who owed him? And here he was trying to make everything about him, when it clearly wasn’t? Shouldn’t he be the one going out of his way to bend over backwards for whatever Castiel needed? But weren’t they more than just two buddies now, especially after date night? 

It was an awful lot of emotion, and a single tear slid down his cheek before he could stop it. One person should not be able to feel this many emotions at once, he felt like his brain was going to explode. His breath wavered, and all he wanted to do was shout at benny and tell him he didn’t understand, that no one could possibly understand. That he was all by himself and that no amount of compassion could ever make his brother or Castiel completely understand what he was going through right now. 

 

“Why does it even matter..” Dean’s voice was still shaky, more tears staining his cheeks, looking at Benny. “Why do you even care?”

Benny raised an eyebrow, “I care about this for you. for your family. because by coming here, you have admitting that you notice something upsetting in yourself. You wouldn’t have come back here if you didn’t.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that. Of course he knew what he’d done wasn’t exactly a completely foolproof means to an end. Maybe he didn’t want to die, but feel something other than the complete void he’d felt finally being alone with all his emotions left over from the accident. There wasn’t anything else to say, but that didn’t stop his tears from sliding down anyway.

* * *

When Dean came home, he was clearly a wreck. His cheeks were red and his eyes were blood shot. He spent most of the drive home bad mouthing himself, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He probably slammed the front door a little harder than he meant to.

“Dean is that you??” Castiel called from the kitchen, but Dean didn’t answer. He went straight to the bedroom and shut the door. He stripped down to his boxers and laid on the comforter, feeling the coolness against his skin. He needed to get himself together, but he was so overwhelmed.

He laid there until the room got dark, staring at the ceiling, trails of tears dry on his cheek. The only noise now was the soft click of the door opening.

“Dean? Are you okay?” It was Castiel, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“I guess..” He replied, his voice rough from crying. “Just.. worked through a lot of stuff..” 

Castiel reached out to touch his chest, a look of confusion and concern on his face. “I understand..” 

Dean held in a quip about ‘did he really understand’ or ‘how could he even begin to remotely understand how he was feeling’, and just took Castiel’s sympathy for what it was. He sighed softly and closed his eyes, it like it was a lot harder to be a functioning human being when you actually had to acknowledge feelings and process them.

* * *

Dean spent the next several days laying in bed, staring at the void. Castiel felt like he’d done everything rouse him, going so far as to bake a cake, but even that didn’t work. Eventually, Castiel decided enough was enough.

He went into the bedroom when he knew the sun was at perfect spot to illuminate the whole room, and threw open the curtains. 

Dean made an inhuman noise in response, and shuffled further under the comforter. Castiel took this as a challenge and pulled the blanket free of the bed. 

“Dean Winchester, this is enough.” His voice was stern, low… more so than Dean had ever heard it, and he sat up and looked at him, eyes skeptical. “You want to be strong and independent, and you don’t want help, and all these things, but you’ve been laying in bed, and moping around like someone stole your candy, and its quite enough. If you think this is going to somehow negate everything you’ve been feeling, I can tell you, it’s probably only made it worse.”

“Oh…” was all Dean could get out. So maybe moping around wasn’t the answer, and he sure didn’t feel any better.

“Get in the shower, and get dressed, we have to go to the store.”

Dean complied, having had the fear of God put in him. The shower did feel good, honestly, and he made sure to take his time. When he was finished, he took a deep breath, exhaling slow. He was dealing with all this the wrong way. He wasn’t going to get rid of all his doubts at once, but laying bed was sure to only amplify the way he was feeling to begin with. 

He got dressed, actually dressed, for the first time in days, and again, he felt a shift deep within himself. Dean looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his reflection. He was looking older, feeling older. For all the time he spent trying to sleep off his depression like a hangover, he looked more tired than ever; even his skin looked dull and pale. “I really need to take better care of myself…”

When he went out into the living room, he saw Castiel waiting, a scowl on his face. But when Dean offered a weak smile, his face softened. “Are you ready?” Dean smiled and nodded, “Yeah.. let’s go…” Things might not be perfect, but with Castiel, they were getting there.


	6. No Room In The Inn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last chapter for Part 2. stay tuned for part 3

Getting Dean out of the house was a lot easier now once he realized Castiel was having none of his hermit nonsense. Now Castiel was dragging him places, when they weren’t working, like museums and movies and what not. Honestly, Dean would’ve rather sulked, at least in the beginning, but he began to anticipate getting hauled off to some _thing_ that he was just along for the ride at this point.

Dean wasn’t one for fancy events though, and when Castiel asked him to attend a publishers fundraising function, Dean became an immovable force.

“I don’t do fancy.” He replied to Castiel’s suddenly whiney voice.

“Come on, do this for me.. one night, and I’ll make it up to you.”

“Cas, haven’t you dragged me enough places?”

Castiel huffed, he was under the impression that Dean was enjoying their adventures. After all, it HAD to be better than sitting in the dark, spiraling… Didn’t it?

“Please.. I’m allowed to being a date, you know.. but I suppose I’ll just have to find another young attractive man to bring with me…” He was trying to be nonchalant, all the while watching Dean’s reaction.

Dean shrugged, “I guess if that’s what you wanna do….” But there was a tone of humor in his voice, a smirk on his safe. “Why stop there? Just get an escort…” Castiel swatted at him, “Just come, it’ll be a nice night out, and my co-editor really wants to meet you.” 

Okay. Maybe that last part wasn’t true. Maybe Ishim had said that he didn’t give a damn one way or another if he ever met Dean. But it was rare that the bulk of them were in town for any given thing, so he almost wanted to flaunt Dean, flaunt his success as both an editor, and as an adult. It was probably super selfish, but he didn’t care. He was finally making something for himself out from under the thumb of his oldest brother.

* * *

Dean must’ve had a stroke. That had to be the only explanation as to why he was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting a black bow tie. Castiel had actually gotten him into a suit, the jacket draped over the edge of the bed. He HATED monkey suits, and here he was, dress pants and a dress shirt, looking like some kind of big shot. 

Castiel was leaning in the doorway, watching. He was dressed similarly, although, his bow tie was blue, making his eyes seem even more like the endless pools they were. 

“I don’t know what you did you get me to say yes. But you better make it up to me…” He chuckled, still fussing with the bow tie. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried to straighten it, the worse it got. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure he tied it right.

His struggle must’ve been obvious, because Castiel came over, standing before him. He undid all the work Dean had done, and tied it back up, letting it finally lay flat. “There…” He said softly, brushing a thumb against Dean’s jaw line. “You look very handsome…” 

Dean gave him a soft kiss on his forehead and smiled, “I’m feeling very much like a piece of meat, Mr. Novak.” Castiel chuckled, “You look very much like a piece of meat, Mr. Winchester.” He was sure this was going to be a long evening, but this was for Castiel, so he could at least give it the old college try.

The drive was painless, it was quiet, but Dean did his best to be relaxed. This went beyond being out of his comfort zone, but it was for Castiel. He loved him, and if he wanted him to come, then come he would.

He stood next to Castiel, watching the valet take away his last chance to escape. When Castiel squeezed his hand, he glanced over, and hoped he offered what he tried to express as comfort. Castiel pulled him along gently, leading him into the most extravagant space Dean had even seen. 

The lights were dim, and the decor was black and silver. There were beautifully done table scapes, and people were everywhere. There was faint violin music filling the spaces between the conversations. _This isn’t going to be so bad…_ Dean did relax, following Castiel as he moved toward a pair of people Dean had never met. 

The man that acknowledged them was older, suave looking, but gruff. He had slight stubble and dark eyes, salt and pepper hair. He was attractive for an older man. “Castiel, how nice of you to join us.” He said, though his tone didn’t really imply the fondness of the sentiment. 

Castiel smiled though, which struck Dean as odd, but these were Castiel’s people, he knew them leagues better than Dean did. “Thank you… Ishim, this is Dean… Dean, this is my current co-editor, Ishim…” Dean held out his hand, which Ishim shook, firm, honest. They made eye contact, but it certainly wasn’t friendly. “And this is Charlie..” 

Charlie was this bubbly red head, very quirky. Her dress looked like…. like the Tardis. It was interesting that this seemingly nerdy lady was hanging out with a stiff shirt like Ishim. “Charlie Bradbury…” She said, reaching out. This girl Dean liked, and readily took her hand, “Dean Winchester, its a pleasure.”   
Through conversation, he learned that Charlie edited video game books. Someone out there wrote a tutorial, and she played the game, and made edits and suggestions based on what actually worked, or worked better. Dean thought that was fascinating. 

Castiel introduced Dean to several more people: Missouri Moseley, who wrote books for people who liked to give a hand at tarot cards and other such things, though he wasn’t interested in that, she was this vivacious black woman, who struck Dean as a gentle soul with immense passion for what she did, and Zachariah Adler, Castiel’s publisher, who was probably the most full of himself person that Dean had ever met. 

Dean played the part of supportive partner really well. He shadowed him around as they said hello to people, shaking hands and introducing himself. Things were going really well. For once, Dean felt like things were going well. While this wasn’t his like most favorite thing in the world to do, it meant the world to Castiel. When they had a moment to themselves, he placed a tender kiss on his cheek, and Castiel blushed.

“I know this isn’t exactly what you wanted to do tonight, but I appreciate you coming… sometimes Ishim and Zachariah can be…. difficult. And even though they were surprisingly pleasant, it was nice to know I had the support if I needed it.”

It was Dean’s turn to blush, placing a hand on his shoulder, “It was my pleasure…” He replied. He let his eyes look over Castiel, hoping to convey all the love he felt for this man. He felt suddenly warmer, and calmer than he’d felt in a long time. 

This sappy moment, which would’ve stretched forever, was interrupted by Castiel’s phone ringing. “Who could that be? Everyone I talk to is here….”

He fished for his phone and pulled it out, groaning at the name on the screen.

“Hello…” his voice was dull now, good feeling gone.

“Cassie!!! Where are you?”

“Gabriel, I don’t have time for games..”

“Listen, champ, I’m at your house, the lights are on, but nobody’s home!”

Castiel flushed, face turning green. “What do you mean, my house?”

“Come on! Let me in!” He chirped, knocking on the door.

“I’m not home… give me 20 minutes…” and then he snapped his phone shut.

“Dean… we have a problem…”


End file.
